


Fight, Flight, Freeze

by RedRia



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: A lot of face punching, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angry Sex, Artist Gerard Way, Asshole Frank Iero, Blood, Closeted Character, Drug Use, Fist Fights, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frank being a wild kid, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Minor Injuries, Punk Frank Iero, Secret Crush, Semi-Public Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Young Love, but also cutie Frank Iero
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-18 18:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14858018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRia/pseuds/RedRia
Summary: The fighting had started because one Sunday afternoon, Gerard had finally asked him why he always talked about killing himself."Because, my dear friend" Frank had replied, getting extremely close to his face and cupping his chin "I. Am. Fucking. Bored".





	1. One last thing

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first effort here!! So if you like, feel free to show some love :)

  


  


There was only so much one could miss about that city. Sunsets. Sunrises. That goddamn creaky porch step. The corner shop and the old lady who worked there and that had died a week earlier.  
_Only so much he could miss._  
  
"So, like, this is happening, huh?" His kid brother. "You're leaving for real?" His kid brother who was growing tall, who no longer had a lisp and a stutter.  
"I am indeed, next month."  
His kid brother who was now a man and would do just fine alone.  
"Are you planning to come back at some point or whatever?"  
"I don't know. I probably won't miss this place much anyway."  
Mikey sat on the porch step, next to Gerard, and it creaked.  
"Is there any last thing you would like to do before you leave?"  
  
-  
  
During the following days, that question was an itch Gerard could not quite scratch. It lingered on, tormenting his sleep, pressing on his temples. One last thing to do before moving to New York. Gerard felt like he was going insane, like all of a sudden he was not done in Belleville just yet, because he had one last fucking thing to do.  
He closed his sketchbook and placed it on his side, letting out an exhausted sigh. He could not draw, and that meant he could not work, and that meant he could not fucking finish his project as the deadline approached. He was going to get kicked out before even getting there.  
He sat back, and the porch step creaked.  
On the other side of the road, Frank was slamming his door open.  
"DON'T YOU DARE COME BACK"  
"I WOULD RATHER FUCKIN' DIE, MA' "  
Then, he was slamming his door shut.  
-  
  
Frank was 20 years old and carried himself around like he had spent them walking. A little tired, at times. His eyes a little darker around the edges as the days went by. But he looked like he had seen the whole world along the way. Or at least, he did to Gerard.  
  
He stood taller than his short stature, hood up, legs steady, high-top All Stars on. He was just as worn out as his clothes. He spoke in a thick accent and cursed like a trooper. He only smiled when he was high, but never with his eyes, only with his mouth. Gerard drew his eyes once, and then never tried to do it again, because Frank was so goddamn hard to draw, and he was so goddamn hard to understand.  
  
He watched him leave, then turning tail and coming right back.  
  
_"You still have a car, yeah?"_  
  
Gerard was startled when he heard his voice. They had not spoken in a while. He looked up and watched him get closer.  
"What?"  
"You fuckin' heard me. You still have that car alright?"  
Frank was 20, had a black scorpion peeking from the side of his neck, and he couldn't drive.  
"I do. Wanna see it? Like little kids do with fire trucks?"  
In a fraction of second, he had a fistful of Gerard's shirt in his hand.  
"You don't wanna get your face smashed, man." He growled, shiny fang-like canines and a silver ring on his lip. "Would't be a good look on you."  
  
Gerard held his gaze for a moment, then he laughed.  
"Since when are you concerned about beating me up? You always did it just fine.. Good ol' times, huh?"  
Gerard and Frank got into fights every single day in high school. They fought outside clubs, they fought at hardcore shows, hell, they even managed to fight when Frank was playing on stage. One minute he was strumming a sloppy, distorted intro, and the next one he would be in the crowd, fist in the air, as Gerard's hands were reaching to choke him.  
"I'm sorry I'm not a fucking fag cartoonist and need a clean record to keep a decent job."  
Frank worked night shifts, but Gerard didn't know what he did.  
"You sure aren't a cartoonist, Iero, but I'm not so confident about the 'fag' part"  
Frank fucked him after fights. Fucked him after school, after getting kicked out of clubs, and after his gigs were over. Even after they had spent whole nights being held at the police station, he fucked him senseless and then they both went home, cheekbones sliced up and eyes blacking out. Once their doors closed, nothing had happened. Their houses had been specular their whole lives, just like their souls, too similar and too opposed.  
"Tell you what, dickhole" Frank let go of him, straightening his back "You drive me somewhere, I give you a hundred bucks."  
Gerard's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, as he grinned hard "Pretty sure you have hardly ever seen a hundred bucks" he finally stood up, towering over him. The porch step creaked. "Let alone have them"  
Frank's family, just like Gerard's, ran on foodstamps and cold water. But there was a special kind of dignity about the Ways and the Ieros, proud bones made strong by the endless winters and the restless work shifts. Mikey and Gerard had been working since they were 15. Frank started working at 12 just so he could afford his only guitar.  
"Pencey Prep sold out at Morley's a week ago. I got some cash on me."  
Pencey Prep was Frank's only instance where he could smile with his eyes. Even if he was screaming his lungs out on stage.  
  
Gerard concealed his slight sense of pride with an eye roll "Where do you need to go?"  
"Bryar's."  
Gerard flinched. He was glad to have forgotten about Bob Bryar.  
"Why the fuck would you need to go at Bryar's?"  
  
"Because I need a gun. To kill myself."  
  



	2. One more fight

_2 years earlier_  
  
Frank had had a morbid fascination with death ever since he was a kid. Gerard couldn't quite pinpoint the moment when, as they grew up, Frank had started to show it, because he always did. He loved fear, and he loved danger so much he'd put himself into it every single day.  
-  
  
"So I went to this club, right?"  
 Sundays were for smoking weed in Gerard's backyard. Every week, Frank would show up at his house with a brand new scrape on his knee, a scar on his forhead, a bloody nose. He would look at him with wild, wide hazel eyes and tell him how he got them. "And little did your boy Frankie know, there was a fucking naziskin bullshit concert going on" he giggled, taking a long drag from the joint. "Let me tell you, man. Three seconds in, we were already clawing our eyeballs out"  
Gerard examined the scratches on Frank's inked arm. At first he laughed, then he shook his head.  
"Why do you keep doing this shit? It's dangerous. And creepy."  
"Dunno." Frank grinned like a cheshire cat " 'Was born on Halloween for a reason."  
  
  
Frank would casually mention, as if it were a joke, that he wanted to kill himself. He did it with his friends, he did it with his mother, and with girlfriends equally. "Doesn't matter. I'm killing myself anyway." He'd shrug like a brat and laugh it off. Nobody ever addressed it and everyone laughed as well, because Frank was strong, well respected, and he was loved. Everyone was too afraid to ask, except for Gerard.  
  
The fighting had started because one Sunday afternoon, Gerard had finally asked him why he always talked about killing himself.  
"Because, my dear friend" Frank had replied, getting extremely close to his face and cupping his chin "I. Am. Fucking. Bored".  
At first, that sounded like the usual stupid reply Frank would give anytime a conversation got too personal. But, thinking about it, there was no lie in what he said. Frank was bored, because he was bigger than that city gave him credit for. He had a spark in him that was ready to set the whole place on fire, but it was slowly fading. He felt caged and numb. Bored to death.  
"Makes sense" Gerard said after a while "I hardly feel anything myself."  
Frank's eyes darted into his. Then he stood up, blowing a thick cloud of smoke.  
"Then hit me."  
"Huh?"  
"Hit me in the face, you fucking pussy"Frank pulled Gerard up by his collar "if you don't, then I will go first."  
"Frank, what the f-" Gerard's voice was cut off by a heavy hook under his jaw. Unlike any punch he had ever received, (and he had received his fair share of them) this time it didn't hurt. It was intoxicating. The adrenaline and shock made him light headed, as he felt a smile tugging on his lips.  
"That was good." Gerard breathed, pulling his sleeves up "My turn."  
They fought like two stray dogs for what felt like hours, pulling on their hair, spitting blood, screaming at each other. Then, both breathless and laying on the ground, they just gave up.  
  
"How'd it feel?" Frank stammered in between heavy, exhausted breaths. When Gerard turned his head, still laying down, he could see him smiling, eyes fluttered shut, a trail of dried blood down his chin.  
"I don't know. It felt."  
  
The fighting continued for months, routinely, obsessively, until they were finding excuses to meet up and fight every single day. Nobody ever won. Nobody ever lost.  
 Gerard couldn't help but notice how Frank had stopped getting into any other fight, how he would cross the school's hallways rocking a stitched up eyebrow, a nose bandage and his usual, arrogant grin as if nothing had ever happened.  
Sometimes he overheard his mom screaming at him.  
  
They never mentioned the fighting. Because fighting involved feelings, and Frank and Gerard were both really bad at them. They talked music, videogames, girls and movies, but certainly not about feelings, because those were for "fucking fags".  


But Frank acted different sometimes. He would glance at Gerard from his window, and flash a sweet smile: his cheekbones purple and his bottom lip swollen, just a fraction of moment, then it was gone. He would manage to always be around. At school, in town, in clubs. They didn't always talk; they just beated the shit out of each other and smiled.  
  
Frank had stopped mentioning suicide lately. Secretly, a small part of Gerard's mind told him that, as long as they had one more fight, Frank would not kill himself. Because he had something more to feel still.  
-  
"You weak piece of shit" the concrete was cold and rough beneath his face, and sounds could barely reach his ears. With his cheeks squashed and pressed between Frank's open palm and the ground, everything was peaceful. Nobody was around and not a single thing mattered.  
  
"This all you can do, Iero? Mommy bein' too scoldy lately? Wanna cry about it?" Gerard growled under his breath before getting free from Frank's hold and grabbing him by the nape of the neck. "Cry about it, kiddo"  
"Go fuck yourself. You don't even have a mother." He spat.  
It was Frank's turn to have his face smashed against the floor. Once, twice. On the third time, Frank was seconds from passing out.  
  
"Dude. Fuck, Gee. Time out." He patted his hand against the floor in defeat. "I'm sorry"  
  
"Asshole."  
Frank rolled on his back, still gasping. Once he had regained lucidity, he sat back up and wrapped his arm around Gerard's shoulders.  
  
 "Shouldn't have said that, I know. I know, I'm really drunk." His thoughts were messy, his voice slurred. His head rested on Gerard. "You know I loved your ma'."  
He felt Gerard starting to soften up, his shoulders relaxing.  "Picnics with her and my mom after school in 4th grade.." He watched him struggling not to smile. "Cartoons on Sunday morning..."  
"When Mikey was an annoying little brat" Gerard finally chuckled.  
"Did you know that your mom even taught me my favourite insult of all time?" Frank proceeded to clear his throat, before yelling "YOU LITTLE FILTHY FREAKING REPUBLICAN!"  
They bursted out laughing, laying back down on the pavement of the parking lot. In the dim nocturnal light, there was only so little they could discern of each other's features. Frank's shiny lip ring and long eyelashes. Gerard's soft curve of the nose and dark, messy hair.  
"You remind me of her a lot" Frank murmured, turning his head to face him "You got her eyes. And her fight."  
They shared a long, silent glance. Then Frank let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing on his eyes. "Ah, man, I think we got a big fucking problem."  
"Huh? What's that?"  
Frank opened his mouth to speak, but the words only managed to come out after a while.  
"I really want to fucking kiss you right now".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drinking game: take a shot everytime Frankie curses in this story lmao  
> If you have made it this far, thank you! This story is being my therapy for college stress tbh- Let me know what you think of it! Feedback is much appreciated :)  
> It's all love❤  
> RR


	3. One real kiss

To be fair, concealing his attraction for boys hadn't always been an easy job for Frank.  
 Sure, by the time he was a senior in high school, he knew his way around it. He'd fuck girls with his eyes sealed shut, then go to a messy game of soccer with his friends and jerk off right after they had shared changing rooms and showers.  
Just like with any other thing in Frank's life except for his music, he didn't really give a shit. He'd paint his nails if he wanted to. He'd wear makeup and check guys' asses out if he wanted to.  Nobody would dare to mention it, or even suspect anything, because common sense was that gay men had to be feminine, and soft, and Frank was a dude who played in a hardcore band and smashed neonazis' faces against walls.  
  
But Frank was also so much more than that. He just couldn't get it out.  
  
*  
  
Frank was laying down with his eyes squeezed shut, waiting for fate to strike him. He could't believe he just said something so lame and so unlike him. To a dude. To Gerard.  
  
But Gerard was a young man of few words.  
  
 "Yeah." He announced, as if he was stating the obvious. "I can dig kissing."  
  
Frank opened his eyes again. He felt weird, like his heart would squeeze out of his nose any time now. "You..are you gay or what?"  
  
Gerard let out a loud, childish laugh, rubbing on his eyes.  
"Are you seriously being judgy about my sexuality after making a move on me?" He looked back at him, an amused look on his face. The pale dawn peeking behind them, Frank thought, made Gerard look like an heavenly creature. Or some shit like that.  
"Yeah dude... being gay is kinda gay." Frank giggled at his own stupid joke, then he sighed. "It's just... I thought I would never have to deal with this."  
"With what?"  
"My..." Frank struggled to find his words. He had never said it out loud. "Attraction for dudes."  
Gerard knitted his eyebrows in concern: "You thought you could just ignore such a massive part of your existence on this planet?"  
"I got other shit to do. I gotta work. I gotta make my music. I gotta put food on the table for me and my delusional mother." Frank was counting his tasks on his tattooed fingers. Then he pointed at Gerard. "And you, you stupid motherfucker, you distract me. You are so distracting. I can't fucking think of anything since we started to hang out. The only thing I ever think about is how I cannot wait to meet you and beat your ass, because you. Are. So. Distracting, man."  
Gerard listened to Frank's messy ramble with a straight, inscrutable look on his face.  
"Was that you trying to say that you like me?"  
  
"Yeah."  
Gerard smiled a cheeky, half grin. "That was the most Jersey declaration ever."  
They laughed, and Gerard tried to engrave the flashing image of Frank's smiling eyes in his brain. He wished he always looked like that. Young and careless.  
"So, uh.. still up for that kiss?"  
Gerard nodded ever so slightly. As much as he was craving for it, he wanted Frank to take the time to face his fears.  
"Okay." Frank lifted himself up, while Gerard stayed where he was, head resting on the pavement. When Frank finally leaned over, placing two fingers under his chin, he held his breath.  
"You done this before?" Frank breathed, their lips softly brushing as he spoke.  
"I had other shit to do." Gerard whispered back, smiling as the tip of their noses grazed.  
Frank fluttered his eyes shut, cupped Gerard's cheek with careful hands, and finally kissed him. It was slow, the lips gentle, unlike anything Frank had ever felt. At first they just dipped their toes into it, locking their lips smoothly, relaxing their bodies against each other, breathing softly.  
Then Gerard placed a tentative hand on Frank's hip, and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Frank's mouth welcomed his tongue with a low, husky moan. Gerard felt his whole body flushing with heat. He was so fucking manly. Even though he was being attentive and slow paced, his grip was firm, and his kiss seductive. He would stop once in a while, and let his lips linger over Gerard's without touching them, smiling teasingly as he dodged a few of Gerard's attempts to kiss him before diving in once more.

He had never, not once, had that kind of fun. Nor had he ever had that kind of wet, raging boner pulsing in his briefs.  
"You are cool, Gerard Way." He hummed as he proceeded to place a trail of mellow, humid kisses from the corner of his lips down to his jawline, bruised from the fight they just had. "You-are-so-fucking-cool." he reached Gerard's ear lobe and nibbled at it, gently stroking his lips with his thumb.  
"You're not too repulsive yourself" Gerard failed to keep his tone normal as he moaned the last word. His mind got foggy, now demanding contact. He needed to feel Frank. He moved his hands down under his oversized t-shirt, starting to caress his sides and his tight abdomen.  
"Somebody been' working out" Gerard grinned,  now gripping Frank's bare hips. Their lips never parted, moaning into each other as they started to grind steadily. "Trying to impress me?"  
"Trying to kick your ass better" Frank was now on Gerard's neck, sloppily sucking on it. "Jesus Christ, I want to eat you alive." He gripped Gerard's jaw and kissed him again, hungry and harsh.  
The sound of a car entering the parking lot violently snapped them out of it and right back into reality.  
"Shit. Fuck. What time is it?"  
"Parking's open again. Must be 6."  
They reluctantly parted, still giving each other tiny pecks wherever they could reach.  
  
"Wanna go to my place? Make out some more?" Gerard opened his mouth to reply, but a familiar voice interrupted him.  
  
"Hey, assholes! Need a ride?"  
  
It couldn't fucking be.  
"Sure thing." Frank did the honours, speaking up confidently. " 'Sup, Bob?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the narrative blue balls, kiddos :-) 
> 
> Thank you for reading, feel free to leave a comment! It'd be kinda cool xx  
> RR


	4. One strange year

1999 had been a weird, weird year. People thought the world was going to end on December 31st. The president got impeached over a blowjob. Columbine High School had been tragically shot up. Michael Jordan had retired.  
Frank had given his first, real kiss. To a man. And if all of the above was not being overwhelming enough, he was now stepping into the vehicle of his conservative, alcoholic, homophobic ex drummer. Bob Bryar.  
Of course he had a fucking pickup truck, Frank thought, as he sat in the front seat and Gerard went to the back. Of course he was listening to fucking Pantera.  
  
"Hey guys."  
"Long time no see, dude" Frank grinned as he shamelessly high-fived him. "Having some Jersey nostalgia?"  
"Nah man" Bob grunted, lighting a cigarette and starting the engine "Chicago is pretty dope. Girls are hot, booze is cheap. I still have to come back here once in a while, though. Check on my old folks. Shall I take you home?"  
Frank nodded vaguely, but in his brain he was still in the depths of a voracious makeout session.  
"By the way, this is my friend, Gerard"  
"Oh I know Gerard." Bob smiled. Frank side-eyed Gerard through the rearview mirrors, watching him awkwardly shift in his seat, like he was sitting on an ant nest.  
"We were in a bunch of classes together."  
Pantera kept blasting though the stereo as they kept silent.  
  
"What day is it?" Frank suddenly asked.  
 Bob exhaled a cloud of smoke from his nostrils: "December 31st. Why?"  
"Nothing. Just wondering." he murmured, watching his house get closer outside the window. It was so early that not a single soul was around. Or maybe the world was truly ending.  
"Well, here we are, boys."  
  
 Gerard's hand was already gripping the door handle. After they had said goodbye, he practically threw himself out of the car. As he stood out there, now that Frank's body wasn't all over him, he started to notice how fucking cold it was.  
  
"Pretty cold out here, huh?" Frank rubbed his hands together, not daring to mention anything Bob Bryar related. Instead, he just looked at Gerard with an awkward, hopeful smile. "Do you..wanna get some tea or something? I have a VHS player in my room. It works sometimes."  
  
*  
  
"Dude?"  
"Huh?" Frank looked up at him, gently blowing over his fuming mug. They were sitting cross legged on his bed, close. But not touching.  
"You are really clever." Gerard began, then took a tiny sip of his tea. "So fucking clever, Frank. You are opinionated, political, and you could also be well spoken if you just stopped talking like a gang member"  
 They chuckled, but Frank already knew where Gerard was going with this one.  
"But sometimes your brain stops functioning correctly, man." Gerard sighed "Bob fucking Bryar? Seriously? You really did not know?"  
"I thought that maybe-"  
Gerard raised a doubtful eyebrow at him, not letting him finish: "he beated me up at your own show. He beated me up all throughout high school. Frank, he was on probation." He grew frustrated, as Frank rubbed  his closed eyelids with his thumb and index. "He's the type of guy you usually fight. Not befriend-"  
"Okay, sweetheart, here's a fucking lesson for you." Frank interrupted him this time, his voice making him suddenly sound way older than he was. "Some people, you just don't wanna mess with them. No matter how much that sucks. Because you mess with them, and that will suck so, so much more. 'Aight?"  
Gerard blinked. It was obvious that Frank knew something he did not know, so he decided to drop it for now. Bob Bryar was not an appropriate New Year's Eve topic for either of them.  
They sat in silence for a while, finishing their tea and lazily looking outside. It had started to snow.  
"Gerard?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Do you think the world will end tonight?" Gerard smiled. It was beyond him how this kid could be so pure and so tortured at the same time.  
"Maybe." He replied, his voice low. Now they were close, their sides touching. "Maybe it will begin."  
Frank gently took his hand, brought it to his mouth, and kissed every single one of his bruised, sore knuckles. "Stay here. Sleep with me."  
Gerard sighed, tempted and seduced by the kisses that were now going up his palm, His wrist, his forearm.  
"Mikey has been alone for two days, I-"  
"He won't mind. Come here. You look so fucking good right now." Frank wrapped his arm around Gerard's back and squeezed him tight, proceeding to kiss him on the soft, sweet spot behind his ear. "All pissed off and stuff. So pretty."  
"I'm not pissed off, you're just a moron sometimes." They shared a hot, playful kiss, Frank smiling as Gerard nibbled on his bottom lip. Maybe Gerard truly wasn't that annoyed after all. He stretched his legs and got closer, until he was on his lap. Frank was smaller and younger than him, but he still made Gerard feel like an inexperienced kid. In a good, slightly arousing way.  
"Let's meet up tonight" Gerard said, caressing the sides of his neck with both hands "If the world is truly ending, we better make it count"  
Frank looked at him lustfully, his lips slightly parted as he tongued at his piercing. He had not  slept in 2 days, his eyes were glassy and his hair all over the place. Gerard thought he was stunning.  
"Deal" Frank kissed him again, his hands sliding in Gerard's backpockets, making a breathy moan slip from his mouth. He grinned triumphantly as Gerard rolled his hips down on him, letting him have a better grip on his ass.  
"Just 10 more minutes" Frank pleaded in a whisper that quickly turned into a low, raspy moan when Gerard started to grind on him. "Yes, 10 minutes will definitely be enough." Gerard smirked, his mouth now all over Frank's throat, then his chest, his hands pulling on Frank's shirt to make room for more bare skin. He hadn't done this in a long while. He hoped he still remembered.  
When Gerard slided away from his lap to kneel by the bed without breaking eye contact, Frank thought he was going to pass out.  
  
"May I?"  
 "You fucking may"  
Gerard gently unbuckled his belt and started to  strip Frank out of his jeans. He looked up at him between long lashes, smiling at the priceless expression on his face. Nervous and blissful.  
He leaned in to mouth at Frank's clothed yet already rock hard dick, making him instantly hiss at the contact.  
"I am not usually like this. But I might not last long"  
Gerard chuckled, face still buried in his crotch "That's because you got head from girls."  He gave Frank's erection a quick squeeze that made him gasp "This is the real deal, schoolboy"  
When Gerard finally freed Frank's cock from his  underwear, he could not contain himself from lifting his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. This kid really had the full fucking package.  
Generally he would go right at it, skip any build up and just take a whole mouthful of dick. But this time, he decided to ease Frank into it, make him relax and soften up, placing wet kisses all the way from his inner thighs to the base of his cock. Frank let out tiny, hardly contained whimpers, holding onto his bedsheets.  
"Easy, sweetheart" Gerard looked up at him, talking lovingly as he spreaded his legs with one hand and started to give his length steady strokes with the other. Frank looked like he did when they were fighting: muscles tense, hands in a fist, heavy breathing. "I don't bite, you know."  
Frank chuckled. He exhaled deeply and tried his best to relax. But first times are fucking hard, and so was he, looking down on his gorgeous, male friend who had just now wrapped his wet lips around his cockhead.  
Gerard twirled his tongue around the tip and gently lapped on the sensitive slit, getting more aroused himself as he heard Frank let go, leaning back and moaning huskily. The older boy worked his mouth gracefully on his cock, sucking and bobbing his head, only stopping to leave long, sloppy licks along the length.  
When he finally took all of it in his mouth, now throbbing in arousal, Frank grunted and let a hand roam through Gerard's hair, hips pressing more of his cock into his throat. The sight of Gerard deepthroating him made him so close that he had to shut his eyes.  
"Yeah, that's it" he panted in between short, pleading moans "I am so...fucking close."  
Gerard let out a throaty groan, and started to bob his head faster, sucking from the tip down to the balls. It was when Frank held his breath, hands now keeping Gerard pressed down on him, that he came in three intense, spasmic spurts.  
  
"Holy shit. Holy shit." He gasped for air, his vision blurry. "That was...so rad"  
Gerard chuckled, getting back up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah. Sooo rad" he mocked Frank's voice. "You okay?"  
He watched him dress back up, his face blissful and rested, like he had just taken a long nap.  
"Yeah. I wish I had done this before."  
Gerard smiled, running a hand through Frank's messy hair. "Can't cry over spilled milk, rascal"  
He tilted Frank's chin back and kissed him softly, melting at the feeling of Frank smiling on his lips. "But we can do it sometime again"  
"Tonight?" Frank kept him close, kissing him some more "I think I owe you some."  
"Tonight it is" even if he was trying to play it cool, Gerard was already hard just thinking of it.

  
Right outside Frank's room, a telephone rang loudly.  
"I'll be right back."  
Frank was clever. Really clever. But he was also quite forgetful.

  
"Hello?"  
"I am so going to kick your midget ass when I see you tonight"  
Ray Toro was on the other side of the line, but he didn't sound like the usual chilled out, cool individual that he was. "For fuck's sake, Frank! Why didn't you bring me my gear back as I KINDLY asked you, three times? We have to be there at 7 to check, and I still have to fix my amp, and make the stupid faulty jacks work, and-"  
"Yooo... okay. Right. Sorry. The show tonight. I'll be at your place in a sec."  
"You better have a glorious fucking excuse"  
Frank grinned. He sort of did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thank you so much for reading and leave feedback if you like! It would be, ehhh... rad. S o r a d.  
> It's all love ❤


	5. One big secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far! Comments and kudos are looooved and appreciated. Hope you enjoy the chapter xx  
> \- RR

"So there was me. And then there was Toro, upstairs. And then there was the fuckin' cops right outside our door."  
Frank had not slept in 2 days. He had a show to play in  2 hours. Lèon was a dude who popped ecstasy like fucking candy.  
That was not a good assortment.  
"And they keep asking to let them in, yelling, and our neighbour is like a thousand years old, homie. I don't wanna scare her. Bless her heart." Lèon worked as a sound tech at AKAB, the venue Frank's band played almost every single week. Neither them nor Lèon got any money from the owner. But they did get beer, a good stage, maybe pot if they got lucky. It was fun.  
  
Lèon and Ray shared a shitty place, and the place got assiduous, punctual visits from the federal police on a monthly basis, but they somehow managed to get by. They balanced each other like sun and moon.  
But Frank had not slept in 48 hours. And Lèon really fucking loved talking.  
"So what do I do, ya know? I let them in. And this time the cocksuckers have dogs sniffing around and flashlights and shit." Lèon shook his head, his neatly braided cornrows bouncing around. Then his voice narrowed to an intimate, mysterious hum. "And guess what, my little Italian friend? They found nothing. Because I had already done all the drugs in the house."  
  
"Wow, Lèon." Frank blinked hard, using his last droplets of sanity trying to build a full sentence. "Rad."  
Leòn gave him a warm, gap toothed smile. "I like you, Frankie boy. Not in a gay way, though- Not that I have something against gays, or whatever. Nothing personal."  
Frank suddenly woke from his trance. "Huh? What? Why? Do I look like I'm gay?-"  
  
" _You look like shit, that's for sure_." Enter Ray Toro, big afro hair, big kind heart, big heavy amp in his arms. "Thank you for being 8 more hours late, asshole. Help me with this thing backstage, will you?"  
  
Frank never complied faster.  
  
*  
  
"Hear me out, F. You're really smart, and you're my brother. But I also really want to punch you in that shrimp dick of yours right now."  
"Funny. I had a similar conversation just this morning-"  
"The owner said she was gonna get us in contact with a dude from Epitaph Records if we 'stayed professional and put up a good show that made her sell a ton of drinks' " Ray air quoted, glaring hard at Frank the way a disappointed parent would. "Get that big head out of your ass and work. You have been weird as fuck lately. And I don't mean your usual I-could-skin-the-president-alive weird."  
The words made Frank feel light headed and heavy hearted.  
"I... I needed to figure a lot of things out. I have been dealing with some stuff."  
"What stuff?" Ray muttered. "Are you doing heavy drugs? Tell me you did not do anything synthetic. That shit is poison. Oh my God, Frank. Did you do heroine-"  
"I think I am gay."  
Frank regretted saying it the moment he opened his mouth to blurt it out. He clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he raised a sweaty palm to his forehead. _This is it,_ he thought _. I am losing my best friend._  
  
Ray was still silent when Frank opened his eyes again, but he looked different. He had put the amp aside, and he was looking attentively at Frank, arms crossed on his chest, eyebrows furrowed.  
Then, he flashed him a half-mouthed smile. "Well, you know that does not make any difference to me, Frankie." He said lowly in a calm, sweet tone "Or to any of us in the band. Because no matter who you like, you are still helping dismantle the stage at the end of the fucking shows."  
"Ah, man. Even the drumkit?"  
"Especially the drumkit." Ray finally broke into a laugh, pulling him in a tight, squeezy hug. Frank melted into it, his heart still racing.  "It's alright. I love you, bro. Get your shit together. Me and the boys will set up the stage, you have two hours."  
Just like that, Ray disappeared through the small staircase that brought to the front of the venue.  
  
*  
  
That same morning, as Frank told Gerard about  the show, he just agreed to go. Their minds were still foggy from the big, deadly cocktail of alchohol, weed, fighing, making out and, well, that thing that had just happened on Frank's bed.So all Gerard did was mumble a sleepy "see you there", kiss him on the cheek, and finally go home to rest. Except, he didn't.  
  
"Wow. What a honor." He was met by Mikey's flat, stingy tone of voice as soon as he opened the front door.  
"Thanks for disappearing, again. I guess it must be in the Way blood."  
"I was with Frank."  
Mikey pierced him with a quick glare, then he looked back at his videogames.  
"That explains why you look like you have been beaten up by a tweaker. It's because you have."  
"Don't be like this. I'm sorry."  
"No, YOU don't be like this. I need you to be around, Gee. I need you to be sane. Ever since mom died you have been losing your shit and I-I can't do it on my own. You don't even draw anymore, you just get shitfaced and do weird stuff with Frank Iero. Why? What are you even-"  
"I think I'm in love with Frank Iero."  
Mikey finally looked at him with full attention, his mouth falling open ever so slightly, and closing back up.  
"Then fucking act like it. Get it together. Act like you care about something."  
  
His kid brother.  
His kid brother who stood up, now taller than he was, left the room.


End file.
